


'Tis The Season

by glmmer



Series: To Thaw a Frozen Heart [2]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Death, characters named after russian figure skater bc my head is always in the gutter, did someone ask for more southern isles headcanons??, everyone say thank you sofia samodurova and viktoria sinitsina!, merry crimmuh!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 08:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glmmer/pseuds/glmmer
Summary: Anna and Hans celebrate their first Christmas as a married couple. Set in my "To Thaw A Frozen Heart" universe.





	'Tis The Season

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of my fellow Hansanna shippers! I hope you enjoy this little fic, which was a massive headache to write during finals... keeping that in mind, though, I do think it came out alright!

For the first two months of their marriage, Anna hardly left the bedroom. When she did, she went to the library, where she’d sit quietly in a corner, a quilt wrapped around her shoulders as though it were a cape, her freckled nose in a book.

Or maybe she did leave. Hans didn’t know much about his wife’s activities during the day. He usually spent them locked in his private study, in meetings with dignitaries, or out in town. From roughly nine in the morning to five at night, Hans didn’t see Anna. But, when he left the room, she’d be curled up in bed, and when he’d come back, she’d usually be in the same position. He knew better than to ask her about her day – only to hold her and reassure her when she got cold.

That’s why Hans was so shocked to hear her bright, happy laughter drifting from the great hall to his study one chilly December morning. At first he thought he was just imagining it – he’d missed the innocent, sweet girl he’d met and romanced five long, miserable months ago. It would make sense for him to daydream and replace the morose woman he shared his bed with with her former self— who would blame him? But then he heard it again, followed by a telltale Westergaard laugh, signaling that he was not, in fact, dreaming. Still, he got up to investigate.

Piles upon piles of boxes covered the floor, garlands and ornaments practically spilling from them. Long tables were being carried in and floors were mopped by servants. Anna’s ladies, his nieces, tore through the boxes, excitedly holding their findings up for each other to see. And in the middle of it all was Anna, his queen, his _wife,_ wrapped up in long red and green ribbons, a large sparkly bow jokingly placed atop her head. 

Sofia was the first to notice him, immediately jumping up and dropping into a curtsy. He has to remind himself that it wasn’t Sofia’s fault her father, his eldest brother, thought it would be of great importance for his daughters and niece to attend to the newest Westergaard Queen’s needs. However, he came to Arendelle to get away from his family, not for them to send their spoiled little daughters to tie his wife’s corsets.

Anna continued to ramble as everyone in the room acknowledged him. She was in her own little world, talking about how much she _loved_ this one particular nativity set, because the colors were so bright, and the detail is insane, and the little sheep were _so_ cute...

Eventually, she noticed that everyone had turned, and did so as well. Upon seeing Hans, her cheeks flushed redder than the bow atop her head.

“Hans.”

“Anna. What’s all of this?”

“Well,” she began, removing the bow from her hair and untangling herself from the ribbons, “Christmas and _jul_ are just three weeks away. And you didn’t have any decorations put up, and I thought — I don’t know, I thought we could all use a little Christmas spirit, you know?”

“I think that’s a good idea.” He tried to hide the surprise in his voice, the complete and utter joy he felt at seeing her out of that dark room with that youthful smile on her face once more.

“Do you, uh, do you want to help? We’re just trying to decide where everything goes right now.”

He bit his lip, glancing from Anna to the decorations and back again. She looked nervous — and he didn't want to ruin her fun, happy moment with his… _presence_.

“I have some paperwork to attend to. Tax rates and the like. If you’re still at it when I’m finished, perhaps.” 

He thought he saw a look of disappointment distort her face, but convinced himself otherwise. He _did_ have paperwork to do, and all his presence would do is depress her.

“Oh, uh… yeah. When you’re finished, maybe.”

“Yes,” he sighed, looking at the various decorations strewn about. He was brought back to childhood, to a happier time when his mother made sure his holidays were filled with nothing but joy and laughter. Oh, how that had changed. “Maybe.”

* * *

 Anna curled deeper into her plush pillows, attempting to find the perfect position to read her book in. She’d rather have just sat in a chair, as she knew craning her neck would only lead to a headache later. But it was so warm under the quilts— sore muscles were worth it.

She watched as Hans got ready for bed, cleaning his face and getting into his nightclothes. Things had been friendlier between them, since that day he’d found her wrapped like a present in the great hall, and although it was strange, exchanging polite, and sometimes happy, small talk with the man who had ruined her life, she appreciated it. No longer did she feel like his prisoner. Maybe not his wife, yet, but his friend. Someone he could talk to after a long day of work.

Hans climbed into bed beside her, his own book in hand. The two fell into silence, with only the sound in the room being the flipping of pages.

Anna hated it.

“Hans, what’s your favorite part of the holidays?”

He looked surprised by her question. “I’m not sure. What’s yours?”

“Well, we didn’t have too many, like, _traditions_ , because of Elsa. We couldn’t really do anything as a family. But my mother always made sure the palace was decorated. I guess that’s why I was so eager to get everything up.”

He nodded. “I was surprised by that. You’ve hardly left this room. I’m… I’m happy that your mother’s memory was enough to get you out of bed.”

“I am, too,” she replied, softly shutting her book and setting it down on the side table.“So, any ideas?”

Hans quirked an eyebrow at her. “Ideas about what?” 

“Your favorite part of Christmas. You said you weren’t sure. It doesn’t have to be, like, your _absolute favorite,_ just tell me things you like. Like, did you guys have a really big tree? I bet you did, you’d have to, to fit all of those presents—“

“Honestly, Anna, I don’t really like Christmas.”

“Wait, _what_?” 

“Maybe I don’t dislike it. I’m just not a fan. Christmases were lonely, after my mother died. And she loved Christmas.”

“Did she do anything special with you?”

Hans bit his lip, before tossing his book aside and extinguishing his bedside candle.

“No. Good night, Anna.”

* * *

 

“What were Christmases like when Hans’s mother was alive?” Anna asked her ladies as they hung ornaments from an especially large evergreen she’d had placed in the great hall. They _were_ Hans’s nieces, so she figured they must have had _some_ sort of an idea of how the former Queen of the Southern Isles celebrated the holidays.

“Queen Isabel died when we were only a year old,” Sofia remarked, wiping sap from the tree’s branches onto her skirt. “We wouldn’t know."

“Well, weren’t any of her traditions passed on?”

“No. Our father is four years older than her, and Hans is her only son,” Viktoria chimed in from the top of a ladder just a few feet away, “None of them felt the need to do anything, it wasn’t like she was their mother or anything.”

“That’s terribly sad.” 

“I guess that’s the way it is.” Sofia shrugged, hanging a glittering red ball from a branch. 

“Uncle Jehan might know. My father once said he got along really well with Queen Isabel,” Charlotte said, her voice drifting around from the other side of the tree. “Some of these are really gorgeous, my lady. Do you know if they’ve been in your family for long?”

Anna didn't hear the end of Charlotte’s question. She’d already taken off down the hallway, composing a letter to Jehan in her head before her pen even hit the paper.

* * *

 

Hans planned to spend Christmas Eve alone in his study. There was no point in being around Anna, who hummed Christmas carols while she got dressed, while she ate, everything. All being around her did was make him feel alone, just as the holidays had for the past sixteen years.. 

How could Christmas bring her so much joy at the same time it brought him so much misery?

He should’ve let her die. 

All she did was bring him _guilt._

He felt his chest tighten and a lump form in his throat.

No. He would _not_ cry. 

But, when the tears began to fall, he didn’t stop them. No, for once in his life, he allowed himself to _feel._

He cried for Anna. For that bright girl he’d met out on the docks that sunny day. The girl whose hopes and dreams he’d snuffed out like a candle. The girl who was so utterly unhappy in her life she’d taken to covering every inch of the palace in garland and tinsel to try and bring something resembling joy to a time that did nothing but remind her of her family. All of whom was dead. One dead _by his hand._

He cried for himself. While Anna used this stupid holiday and the memory of Christmases past to heal, he let it tear him apart. He let it make him more miserable.

Maybe that was why he was the way he was. Since he was a child, he’d let misery take over his life. Maybe he had a need to make everyone around him feel the same way.

“Hans?”

His hands flew up to wipe away his tears, to cover what he was sure were incredibly puffy, red cheeks. “It’s unlocked,” he said, when he’d decided that he probably looked presentable enough. He could always say he was sick. “Come in.”

His study door creaked open, and Anna stepped in, dressed in a long, red gown, holly carefully braided into her hair.

“Anna.”

“Hey.”

“Why are you…? You look beautiful, but—“

“It’s Christmas, Hans,” she sighed. “I know you don’t like it, but I was hoping that we could celebrate. Together.” 

He looked her over. She was _glowing_. And it’d been so long since she glowed.

“Alright.” Her face lit up at his response. “Should I change into something more formal, or…?”

“No, no, you’re fine. I just arranged to have a nice dinner made for us. I just felt like getting fancy. Thank you, by the way. For the, uh, compliment.”

He nodded, offering his arm to her, the way any good husband would. He was somewhat surprised when she took it.

They walked to the dining room in silence, the only sound the clicking of their heels on the polished wood floor and the wet snow falling against the windows.

As Hans opened the door for Anna, he was hit with a hauntingly familiar smell.

_Did she…?_

“It’s, uh, roast quail. With potatoes and cranberries and gravy,” Anna explained as he pulled out her chair for her.

“I know.”

She bit her lip as he walked to his seat. He could feel her staring at him, searching for some kind of approval, a look of anger, _anything._

He offered nothing. Their dinner is silent, for which he was grateful. It allowed him to reminisce.

It was always just him and his mother on Christmas Eve. None of his brothers could be bothered to stop by, no, their resentment towards the young Queen was much too strong to put aside for even a night. Jehan would stop by, for a few minutes, but that was it. Even his father only spent a short time with them.

But, it was happy. His mother would sing to him, dance with him, spoil him with presents and dessert.

All of that went away when she died.

“My mother used to have this made for Christmas.”

Anna blinked at him. He could see the nervousness in her eyes. “I, um, I wrote to Jehan. I knew you had to have _some_ sort of a tradition.”

“It stopped when she died. Rikard took over with his mother’s old traditions. And God forbid I take part in them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s why I hate the holidays. I may have twelve brothers and an infinite supply of nieces and nephews, but I don’t have a family. I lost my only family when I was six and haven’t had one since. And the holidays are all about family and togetherness. What’s the point in celebrating when you don’t have one?”

Anna nodded. She, too, was completely alone. _Had_ been completely alone, since her childhood, just as he had been. They were more alike than he thought. Anna had just taken the high road. 

“Well, you have me now,” she murmured, her lips tugging into a small smile. “I think a husband and wife are technically family. We share a last name and everything.”

Hans laughed. She was right — they were each other’s family. Whether they liked it or not, they were married. Bound together for life because of some stupid vows and matching gold bands.

He wished he could apologize to her. For forcing her into such an unloving and miserable marriage. For killing the only family she had and replacing it with himself. But she’d already gotten up, shuffling over to the side table to retrieve one carefully wrapped box. 

“I have one more surprise,” she said, a giddy smile taking over her face as she handed him his gift. If she’d talked to Jehan about his childhood Christmases, then surely...

“A soldier,” he whispered, holding up the carefully carved wooden figurine in the light. It had been his mother’s favorite gift to give him. She’d have them carved, but paint them herself. And she and Hans would come up with a story for the brave soldier who would protect his people, defeat the villain, and win the heart of the princess.

 _“You’ll be brave like that, one day_ ,” Isabel would tell him. “ _My sweet, brave little Prince_.”

Well, somewhere something had gone wrong. In his mission to be the hero, to be the brave soldier his mother had wanted him to be, he’d become the villain.

 “I did the painting,” Anna’s voice called him back to the present, the world in which he was a villain. _Her_ villain. “I know it’s kind of sloppy, but—“

“It’s beautiful.” He looked up at her, tears beginning to brim in his eyes. How could one _sad_ person find it in her heart to be so kind…?

“I’m sorry, if I, like, overstepped my bounds, or something. I just wanted to do something special for you.”

“No, no, I appreciate it, Anna. I… thank you.” That’s all he could manage. _Thank you_ .  “I got you a gift, too.” Admitting it was embarrassing. He had planned on leaving it in their room with her after he’d left to work in the morning. She could open it and do with it as she pleased. But since she’d gone out of her way to get him something so meaningful? “It’s just a stupid bracelet. I don’t know why I chose it. I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen you wearing a bracelet, now that I think about it. My brothers would just always buy their wives nice jewelry. I won’t be offended if you never wear it—“

“It’s still a gift.” She smiled, taking his hand. “You still took the time to choose something for me. And that alone is enough to make my Christmas a merry one.”

He knew so little about her. Hopefully, by the time the next Christmas rolled, he could pick something a bit more personal for her. Something special.

“Merry Christmas, Hans.”

“Merry Christmas, Anna.”


End file.
